Hidden Faces
by Darth Bunny Rabbit
Summary: Erik meets the mysterious woman called Cinderella at a masked ball, and a fairy tale begins to unfold. Unfortunately for him, however, things aren’t always what they seem, and angels aren’t always pure and innocent…
1. Once Upon a Time

**Once Upon a Time…**

The Opera Populaire had been renovated after the fire, of course. They would probably always keep coming back like that, even if it had happened a thousand times. Within a year or so, the Opera was back on its feet, back to the way things always were. They even started up the New Year's Masquerade again, even though the last one ended as such a disaster. That's when he appeared…

He was a mysterious figure, to say the least. He always stood on the edge of the room in some shadowy corner, watching the dancing but never joining in, never speaking, just watching the twirling dancers as his own thoughts whirled away into the night. He also was never around at the midnight unmasking, though he was always there, year after year. After a few times, the other guests began to joke that he was the old Phantom come back to haunt them. They didn't know how close they were to the truth…

Nearly five years after the fire that had so nearly destroyed the Opera Populaire, the mysterious woman referred to as Cinderella made her first appearance in Europe. She appeared as a radiant but uninvited guest at ball after ball, always disappearing at one minute until midnight. If anyone cared to find her the next day, they would find no trace that she was ever even there…

Two phantom guests haunting the masked balls of Europe…


	2. Angel of the Night

**Angel of the Night**

Erik stood in the shadows that lay on the fringes of the masquerade, plain black clothes hiding him from the notice of curious eyes, silent as he watched the whirl of bright colors that passed before him. Five years. It had been nearly five years since he had let her go. Five years. Why did it still hurt so much?

At least he got one little piece of relief at this year's masquerade. _She_ wasn't there. Christine and that idiotic Raoul weren't there. God knows where they were, but they weren't _there_. He didn't have to watch them dancing blissfully. He didn't have to be reminded of how she had left, how _he_ had taken her…

Erik took a deep breath and relaxed. There was no point in being angry at something you can't control, he'd learned that much. It only caused pain, really. That didn't mean that he didn't want to kill the insolent little cretin. He just wasn't going to do something ridiculous over it. Again.

Maybe he would actually enjoy himself this time. He nearly laughed aloud at the thought. Him, _enjoying_ himself. _That_ would never happen.

He was looking over the crowd of whirling dancers when he saw her. She had just walked into the room, a late guest. Uninvited too, he guessed; as she didn't even look vaguely familiar to him, and he was quite sure he could at least _vaguely_ recognize all the people who were usually invited. He studied her, curious despite himself.

At first glance, she seemed to be dressed from head to toe in some flowing and shimmering black fabric, but a closer examination revealed she was wrapped in blue silk so dark it looked black at first glance, decorated with hundreds of sparkling silver stars. Her flowing raven hair was piled luxuriously on top of her head, silver and diamond stars holding it in place. Her emerald green eyes looked out from under her mask, scanning the room as if looking for someone. More like looking for prey, if you paid attention to the rest of her face. Who wouldn't pay attention to that face? She had a classic beauty about her and, Erik noticed with a bit of a smile, even the happily married men were paying attention to her, much to the dismay of their wives.

She looked like an angel. Erik smiled as he thought of the motifs of her costume. She looked like an angel of the night…

A moment latter, their eyes met, and he realized suddenly who she was. She was that woman they called Cinderella, the mysterious woman who appeared at masked balls and disappeared without a trace. He might have known more about her, but he paid hardly any attention to the stories and rumors…

He bowed his head slightly, acknowledging her presence and, in a way, welcoming her into his domain. He still thought of it as _his_ opera house, after all, even if he had no control over it anymore. She returned his gesture with a small smile that unfolded in a way that one could hardly notice the change, and then disappeared into the crowd. Erik looked back to the twirling dancers, a sigh just barely audible over the din of the party escaping his lips as his thoughts returned to his own lonely despair.

They didn't stay there for long.

A few minutes later, Erik was pulled out of his thoughts by a laugh that was disturbingly close by. Disturbing because most of the guests avoided him, leaving him alone in his bubble of lonely sadness. The laugh _itself_ was also slightly disturbing. It was a hauntingly beautiful laugh; musical in the way a dirge is musical. It sounded dark, foreboding, sad, and yet surprisingly warm, like an uncontrollable fire. Erik turned towards the source of the laugh quickly and with not just a small amount of anger, wondering who had dared to come so near and disturb his sorrowful thoughts.

It was _her_ again, Cinderella, now with an almost cruel smirk playing on her lips.

"I come all this way to see you," she said in a voice that matched her laugh, "and you don't even ask me to dance!"

He barely controlled his shock at her statement. Why had she come to see _him_?

Almost as if reading his mind, she leaned in a bit closer to him and said in a whisper like wind on a cold December day, "I know who you are, Erik. I know…_So_ much about you. Not everything though…"

How did she know…?

She laughed softly. "I have my ways, Erik," she whispered again, every word sounding like poisoned honey. She turned to leave once him alone once more, but her warm yet dangerously dark voice called out to him before she disappeared into the whirl of color.

"So," she said, turning to look at him as a grin began to form on her angelic face, "will you ask me to dance, or not?"


	3. Thoughts: Dance of the Confectionaries

**Dance of the Confectionaries**

I'm _dancing_. I'm actually _dancing_. What the _hell_ has gotten into me?

She didn't leave me much of a choice, though… Or _did_ she? God, I can't even _remember_! What had she said that made me _dance_ with her?

God, I'm _dancing_! What has gotten _into_ me? Am I becoming part of the crowd?

No, I'm _not_. For one thing, I'm not dressed in something _hideously_ gaudy and bright, and the woman I'm dancing with doesn't look like some kind of _confectionary_…

She's looking at my eyes now. Her eyes. They are _so_ beautiful, like a pair of precious Emeralds…

I damn well _better_ not be falling in _love_ again!

She was laughing now. Her laugh. There's something horrible about it, something that tears into my _soul_ in such a way that it _repulses_ me, makes me want to tear away from her. But something _else_ in that laugh, in her voice, draws me closer to her, deeper into the depths of her voice, her _eyes_…

Damn it! I am _not_ falling in love!

Well, there's at least _one_ thing I _must_ admit…

I _am_ enjoying myself…


	4. The First Stroke of Midnight

**The First Stroke of Midnight**

Whispers spread like wildfire around the edges of the room, spreading outrageous rumors about the pair of phantom guests now twirling around the room. Rumors that only sparked even more outrageous rumors…

---

They had been dancing for what seemed like hours before she complained of a small headache.

"Perhaps we should rest a little," she said, her poisoned honey smile now permanently glued to her face, "We can talk while my head stops spinning…"

Talking with her was a true joy, Erik soon decided. She was witty and intelligent. While many of the other ladies at the masquerade liked small chat and giggled gossip, this Cinderella tended to get straight to the point of the conversation. She seemed to comment on everything, and her comments weren't always nice, either…

"You don't seem too keen on society," Erik said with a sly smile after she had commented on the ridiculousness of etiquette.

"I've never really been a part of it," she replied, a dark shadow seeming to pass over her face.

"A beauty like you?" he exclaimed, mockingly feigning shock. Something about her was making him open up, quite against his will…

She rolled her emerald eyes, a smile slowly coming back to her lips. "I'm sure you don't meet an outcast everyday, _Erik_, but that doesn't mean there aren't any," she said softly, every word dripping with sarcasm. She laughed a little at the uncomfortable frown that had suddenly appeared on his face. In a moment it passed, though, and he continued his questioning.

"Why are you an outcast, though?" he asked thoughtfully.

The dark shadow seemed to pass over her face once more as she turned her head away and replied. "I don't like to talk about it," she said, her voice barely audible and her eyes a million miles away, "the memories… it hurts too much to think about it…"

Erik decided not to press the subject. Secrets sometimes needed to be kept that way, painful pasts locked away from the world. God knows he understood _that_. A few moments later she turned back to him with a smile, but her eyes still held that distant and sad look. Silence fell over them both for several minutes before she finally broke it…

"Why don't we continue dancing?" she asked, her smile now including her emerald eyes, "I believe my head can finally take the spinning again…"

---

Rumors spreading like wildfire through the room. Whispered conversations. Sister to sister. Friend to friend. I've heard he's swept her off her feet. Someone overheard her vow to never leave him. Mother to daughter. Wives to their husbands, who couldn't care less. Whispered rumors. They've meet in the past. She's his long lost sister. They were childhood friends. Wild rumors. Outrageous rumors. Rumors spreading like wildfire, sparks flying from whispered conversation to whispered conversation…

---

As they stepped away from the dancing once again to rest their spinning heads, Erik checked the time. 11 o'clock. Had they _really_ been dancing for _only_ an hour? It felt like they had been dancing for _years_!

Or perhaps it was more like they were dancing the years _away_, for Erik hadn't had the slightest thought about the past since they had started dancing. Something about her made him forget everything, live only in the moment without a thought of the past or a care for what would happen in the future. He had wanted that for so long, to be able to forget everything but the moment he was living, to erase the pain, but now that it was happening, now that he thought about it, he wanted it to stop. It felt like she was slowly draining him of his self, leaving him only as an empty shell devoid of thought, of purpose, of life…

The bright, warm room suddenly felt cold, and he shivered slightly. Perhaps it would be best if he left…

But her voice, her eyes, her smile… He was drawn ever closer, unable to stop himself… Drawn ever closer to the woman he couldn't help but think would lead him to his death…

"You look distant, Erik," she said, interrupting his dark thoughts and drawing him back into the moment, "Tell me, what are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," he replied, "nothing that matters."

---

The rumors were getting really crazy now. They couldn't possibly be true, but nothing seemed to stop their path. The rumors spread like wildfire…

Dancing, twirling, swirling colors of every hue, music, laughter, and in it's midst, two floating shadows, two dancing spots of darkness in this world of light…

She left as usual, turning on her heal and running for the door. He followed, but his only reward was to see her vanish into the night as the first stroke of midnight began to ring…


	5. Flashback: Once Upon a Midnight Dreary…

**Once Upon a Midnight Dreary…**

Lightning cracked the dark sky in two with blinding white light as rain pounded the muddy hillside. A lone figure climbed up the slope in the storm, slipping in the dirty puddles dotting the small hill. It reached the top just as the ominous booming of thunder rolled across the night. Another flash of lightning illuminated the figure as it stood in the heavy rain.

It was a small girl, a mere child, yet her eyes had the look of someone who has seen more of the world's cruelties then some adults. But her face still had the look of someone that still held on to that last shred of innocence and hope. Her emerald green eyes looked back the way she came with a sort of reserved sadness as the wind tossed her long black hair. She was dressed in the colorful attire of Gypsies, now coated in splatters of mud. Her bruised and scratched face looked serious and yet frightened as she looked back.

In the direction she'd come from was a traveling fair of Gypsies, camped for the night. She wasn't really a Gypsy herself, but she'd lived with them for as long as she could remember. She'd been orphaned from birth, her father having died not long before she was born, and her mother dying only moments after. She may have lived amongst these Gypsies for a long time, but she never truly belonged with them.

Many thoughts ran through her head as she stood in the cold, pounding rain, but most of them centered on the boy, the nameless boy who had been her one true friend for the past year or so. Actually, he probably did have a name, but she had never asked him what it was. He was treated far worse then she ever had been, locked up, shunned and often beaten for something he had no control over. But she came to know him as the poor boy whose mother despised him, the boy who'd never had a real friend.

She'd changed that.

She'd been his friend, talking to him everyday, sneaking him away to play games when she could. Perhaps she could have done more, like asking his name, for one thing, but she just hoped that what she had done had made his life a little happier, even if it was just for a little while.

She kept thinking she should go back and help him escape, that they should run away together. But no. That would take time, and she had to get away, before she hurt anyone else, or they really started to hurt her. She looked down at her hands for a moment. She'd probably never forget those cries. They had really been hurt, and it was her fault. She looked away quickly.

With one last sorrowful glace toward the closest thing to home she'd ever known she started walking away, as the now distant rumbling of thunder rang like a death toll over the dark night.

A long time latter, she sat in a dark alley, cold, exhausted, and crying bitterly. She shouldn't have left in such a hurry. Besides, it had been an accident, wouldn't everyone understand that? And now she was cold and wet, all alone in a city she'd never been to before…

A shower of warmth and light spread over her as a door opened in front of her. A man stood in the doorway, tall and large, with a huge grin.

"Well hello, little girl," he said in a booming voice like thunder, "Why are you sitting out there in the cold? Come inside, where it's warm…"

She looked up at his large, round face, and with her young and still mostly innocent mind, she saw the glint in his eyes as friendly rather then malevolent.

"Come inside, little girl. I won't hurt you."

And in her mind still holding on to those last vestiges of innocence, she believed him. She went inside, a grateful smile unfolding across her tear stained face.

That innocence wouldn't last much longer…


End file.
